Skipping all the Steps
by Golden Lark
Summary: In a fight to dismantle the Grail, Shirou hesitates and loses everything. Banished to a new world, he is given an infernal offer by forces beyond imagination who also failed and lost everything. [Exalted and Fate/Stay Night]


Never let it be said that he didn't try his best.

Before I begin, before the story starts, I must make one thing very clear. I am not writing this to defend his actions. This is not a manifesto or a carefully censored revision. As befits him, it is the truth as far as we are aware of it. I fulfill my purpose by simply collecting that truth and rendering it into a consumable form. That I came to be at all in this capacity is evidence enough of his regard for the facts-as-best-known.

I can be wrong.

I can be biased.

However, the one thing that must be absolutely clear is that he did not compromise. He was granted the opportunity to achieve all of his ideals and his desires, albeit that was not the intention at the time. Instead of grinding to a halt when presented with two conflicting priorities, he took the path that would grant him everything.

No matter what he had to suffer through for it.

No matter how little of 'him' was left to receive it at the end.

Even the Chosen of the Sun or the True Magicians merely have the power to make the choice they want and achieve it, damning the obstacles and the consequences. Not even they had the power to take two or more conflicting options at the same time.

He twisted worlds to allow his various goals to co-exist, even if he had to counter-twist himself to compensate.

I am merely here to organize and present. I am, incarnate, the antithesis of "_Never once being understood_." He shall not walk that path so long as I am.

Now read, and comprehend. Validate my existence, and perhaps become enriched for it.

_-Coelica, the Frozen-Light Chronicle, seventh soul-progeny of the Unlimited Bladeworks_

Our story begins in two places. The second place is Fuyuki City of Japan, ten years after the conclusion of the fifth Holy Grail War. While those events are more important, the first place has narrative relevance and chronological precedence. I shall speak of the Noss Fens.

The Noss Fens are a large area of swamp, within a shadowland to the far East of Creation. For the uninitiated, this means that it is a swamp where the Essence of raw life mingles freely with the Essence of death; a stagnant place where nothing truly lives or dies. A magical haunted swamp, to distill down to the level of children's tales.

This swamp has a ruler, a long dead ghost queen of foul power and fouler goals. In her dread citadel at the center of her domain lies a strange well; a black tunnel into infinity that leads elsewhere and anywhere, depending on the time. Well-informed readers have already concluded that this construct is our bridge between the two worlds of Creation and Gaia's Earth.

That isn't the important part.

The important part is that our deuteragonist has never before seen a swamp with his own eyes, let alone a magically haunted one. Never mind dread citadels, ghost queens, or mystic wells. I daresay he hadn't yet so much as set foot on an unpaved road before his current task.

So, pity him. Pity the Blood Ape, Senbrek, because any sin of his pales compared to the most likely fate of those who foolishly approach his destination. Pity him, and bear witness to the final hours of his life.

_-Coelica, the Frozen-Light Chronicle, seventh soul-progeny of the Unlimited Bladeworks_

A five hundred pound gorilla crested the last green hill before grasslands gave way to wetlands, turned his head, and spit.

It had become a habit, in the last few weeks. His homeland, the Demon City, only had abundant plant life in clearly delineated and easily avoidable areas that no Blood Ape with any sense would set foot. Since he set foot into the wider world on his current task, he had been rapidly introduced to the twin horrors of pollen, and allergies.

Still, he didn't need clear sinuses to inform him that what laid ahead of him was far worse.

Moonlight still showed him his path, for now. Rolling green hills faded into dead brown and gray, then descended into muck. The droning buzz of insects was absent. There was no birdsong or chitter of other animals. No cold-blooded creatures lurked in those depths.

The only bones he could smell were long dead, and any marrow within would be rotten beyond any salvation. That those bones would likely be holding together animated undead didn't help, either.

He sighed. Undead. It was a doubly alien concept; in the Demon City normal demons like himself simply dissolved into nothing a while after being killed; the truly unlucky were harvested by their betters and used as components in artifice while not being allowed to die. Even being eaten alive was usually a better fate.

Mortal humans left their material husks behind, their tiny and deceptively weak souls fleeing for their next destination. Those husks could be reanimated with forces that churned Senbrek's rather hardy stomach to contemplate.

Enemies were to be killed, their blood sipped, their bones cracked, their marrow consumed. Puppeting their corpses, rotting what sustenance they might provide, and using them as mindless soldiers that couldn't even appreciate the battles they fought in? It didn't sit well with him.

It didn't sit well with him at all.

He called on his power as he made his way down the hill. Just as he crossed the threshold into the shadowland, the moon above vanished and the stars changed, as he had been told would happen. If he turned back now he would wander the Underworld instead of Creation. He had to wait until sunrise for Creation to take primacy again and allow him escape from the half-dead zone.

A greater concern, however, was the unknown number of undead between himself and his goal. Had this been a better situation, these sentinels would have been alive, full of blood, and a wonderful challenge to crush one by one. As it stood, they were mindless, fearless, and weren't even worth his time.

He drew up his power and shifted into a dematerialized form. The world took on a slight blur, and previously invisible spirits shifted into focus before him.

He blinked once.

At least, they would have, had he been anywhere but the edge of the Noss Fens.

No one wanted to be in the Noss Fens.

He lumbered forward, trying not to think about the uncomfortable spiritual non-weight he now lacked. Blood Apes do not dematerialize lightly. Everything they have the capacity to enjoy about their lot in life requires physical stimulation. That said, Senbrek was not here for enjoyment.

Considering the bright side, he figured he'd at least not likely encounter any cats.

Swamps were much less of an obstacle when one was more or less invisible and intangible and unable to sink into them and die horribly. Animated skeletons couldn't notice you to stick you with swords, and zombies were much the same. One hungry ghost approached, but even after life and mind left it, mere human souls knew better than to challenge a Demon of the First Circle. It took one sniff at him and bolted.

Smart, that.

Eventually he reached relatively solid ground again, and was face to face with a relatively underwhelming structure. The Mound of Forsaken Seeds, if his reluctant 'travel agent' was at all trustworthy. He touched the solid soulsteel double door with a dematerialized claw and was not surprised to feel the unnaturally cold metal block his path. Spirits could not pass through a barrier of one of the Magical Materials even while dematerialized.

He sidestepped the door and just passed through the wall next to it instead.

Whatever the walls were made of probably stopped ghosts, but not other spirits. Why would they?

No one wanted to come to the Noss Fens.

There was something distinctly unsatisfying about infiltrating an enemy stronghold like this. He made his way down deeper into the sprawling underground complex, the tug from his heart guiding his path. When he finally came into what seemed to be a throne room, he laid eyes on what had to be the Well of Udr that he had been told about.

There were six other living humans in this fortress. Very young. Any one of them could have been his target, but he had been informed the chances were not zero that he'd be after someone passing through the well.

When the Unquestionable inform you of something, you don't ask questions.

It's implied, you see.

Regardless, he was now alone in a Deathlord's throne room being urged by the burning power recently invested in him to approach the Well of Udr. At this point he began to feel a conflict of interest. His memory drifted back to almost a month prior.

_"Now, Senbrek, was it? Right. You've been given an extremely important duty; one that will stretch the limits of your experience. Your primary enemies are your instincts and your nature. That you have lived long enough for your hair to turn white is testament enough to your ability to suppress both of those things. Erymanthoi rarely survive long enough to gain a single gray hair, let alone all of it._

_"In any case, you will be seeking out candidates. The shard inside you will pull you towards them, however far away. You will arrive at precisely the correct moment. At that point it is up to you to persuade the subject to accept the bargain."_

_The green-skinned, four armed figure turned to face him. Senbrek clamped down on his fight-or-flight instincts with all of his being. The green man smiled._

_"Your control serves you well. Use it at the appropriate time. Know that I hereby grant you, Senbrek, the full authority to promise the support, resources, and military might of Malfeas in my name to any valid candidate. While those things are too vast to list out individually, I can give you my personal word that if the candidate asks if we could assist him in any particular task at all, the answer is an unequivocal yes. The pettiness and scope of the request matter not. If they accept the offer and have any questions beyond that which you cannot answer in your new role, then direct them to me."_

_Senbrek nodded. He didn't dare say a word._

_"I will have agents meet you and escort you on parts of your journey. They will be the ones to anticipate your destination based on your heading and brief you on potential items of note. If they lack the information, they will forward the queries up to me. I will follow up and get you the necessary guidance._

The Fetich of the Demon City was as good as his word. After the first two aborted attempts to imbue a candidate, Senbrek was directed towards the Noss Fens, and within a week had been given a dreamstone dossier to absorb, narrated by the Green Sun himself.

It was the final time he would have reason or opportunity to sleep on his journey.

The guide might have been dry or boring, but Ligier did nothing by half measures. Even a lowly Blood Ape was capable of being enthralled by the details and analysis of an odd spot of Creation's geography that had been around since the beginning of Time itself. Details that he might have forgotten in minutes floated back to the forefront of his mind as he passed what few landmarks were visible.

The final landmark on the list was the Well of Udr itself, and the warning he got rang loudly in his mind.

_In the unfortunate and improbable circumstance that your target is to emerge from the Well of Udr, it would serve you well to not get too close. I have personally gazed down its depths in an earlier era, and I can say without shame that it was a profoundly uncomfortable experience. For you, it would likely shred your mind into scraps, then swallow the rest of you whole. This would, of course, prevent you from fulfilling your duty, so it is not advisable. Don't look down the Well._

If only his progenitor's progenitor could tell that to the incessantly straining mote of fire in his chest. He sat, at the far end of the room, waiting for something to happen. The straining in his chest took on a new level of intensity.

Did he just glow green for a second?

He blinked, and was suddenly halfway to the Well. Shaking his head, he threw himself to the ground, and was shocked to find his body forcing itself upright and walking without his control.

_Ah. This must be how they get the idiotic and unruly ones to complete their task_.

By the time he was at the lip of the Well, he had closed his eyes. When he felt himself stop, he realized he wasn't going to throw himself bodily into the thing. He didn't open his eyes. He felt the pulse of green light again, but didn't give in. A third pulse was like fire in his gut. A fourth had his skin burning. A fifth made thought painful.

Eyes still shut, he roared defiance to the empty chamber, heedless of who might hear. Better to burn in green flames or be impaled on rusty blades than face that void. He accepted his death.

The pulse of flame paused, then suddenly he felt very small. A searing bolt of pain wrenched his mind, and his eyes snapped open as he screamed at the ceiling again.

_**LOOK, AND FEAR NOT.**_

He was . . . no. Impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, who was he to doubt?

He turned his head down and stared into the unfathomable black of the Well of Udr directly. What shapes and sights that pierced his mind were annihilated by green fire before they could twist his existence. In seconds or days or hours he saw what he was looking for as the package he held almost sang with intensity.

The target was visible. Now two sets of eyes watched and waited for him to fall.

It wasn't quite a Mexican standoff.

A mexican standoff implies three parties ready to open fire on each other, with the typical tactic of the first one to shoot being the second one to die. No one wishes to be shot, and so no one fires.

This was a more conventional standoff, at first glance.

On one side were Matou Zouken, Matou Sakura, Matou Shinji, and a rather large number of insects. On the other side were the Lord El-Melloi II, Tohsaka Rin, Emiya Shirou, and the Servant Saber. Pooled at the feet of this second group was a rather large quantity of what seemed to be plain liquid mercury; such a misconception vanished as soon as an errant insect crawled or flew too close, causing a pinpoint needle-strike arm of metal to snap up and impale it, then dragging it back in to divest it of energy.

The line had been drawn. The diplomacy had failed, and the two sides of the issue at hand had taken up arms. All that was left was to choose the battlefield and open fire.

That they currently stood in the middle of a residential street in a nicer part of Fuyuki City was not lost on them, however.

The shriveled, shrunken old head of the Matou family spoke first.

"Ah, Lord El-Melloi, would it not be wise for us to move our little conflict to a less conspicuous location? It would be a shame if we brought the Association's wrath down on us for our little argument."

The regal-looking man on the other side of the conflict brought his hand to his face and sighed, shattering his composed image for a moment. Long brown hair was pushed back out of sharp eyes as he gazed down on his opponent.

"Zouken. I am the Association's wrath. Being brought down. On you. Even if we lose today, more will come. The ones here are trying to stop the ritual peacefully. Our successors will likely either destroy it and half this city with it, or poke it until the Counter Force shows up. No one will be interested in playing through the ritual with you again save the Einzberns, and they have lost enough face over this farce of a ritual so as to not even cooperate with you in protecting it. You were offered a chance to help us take it apart and an equal place with Miss Tohsaka to analyze the workings of the ritual for the sake of perhaps designing an alternative."

He waved a hand off to the north.

"We'll fight in the memorial park. It serves to scare off bystanders well enough anyway, and neither of us is likely to do anything so chaotic as to affect the city around it."

He eyed the man and woman standing with Zouken.

"Can I assume your puppets will behave, or are you going to have them attack as soon as we are out of sight?"

A rough chuckle escaped the ancient man's throat.

"Puppets? I assure you, Lord El-Melloi, that Sakura and Shinji are both here of their own free will, with no magecraft affecting their judgement in the slightest," he smiled before continuing, "As such, any aggressive move they make can't be held against me."

"Tch."

A scroll was pulled from a suit pocket and tossed at Zouken. A pair of rather large bugs snatched it up and flew it to him.

"Hmm. No bystanders, no leyline antics. You really thought this through, didn't you, Waver-kun?"

El-Melloi didn't flinch on hearing his old name or the rudeness of its invocation.

Cackling, the old man pricked a finger and signed the binding contract in blood. Both men flinched as the seal bound itself to their souls, and both the liquid metal and the bugs withdrew to their primary controller.

El-Melloi turned to his companions.

"I've done my part. I'll hold him off and keep his bugs off of you two. I don't know about those two with him, but Zouken himself cannot interfere with you until our match is finished. Go, like we planned."

With that, the great magus was lifted onto a platform of liquid metal, and was whisked towards his chosen battlefield. His opponent laughed one more time and collapsed into a swarm of bugs that flew off after him.

After all traces of the two were beyond senses, the remaining five figures sized each other up. Or at least, one of them sized the other four up.

Matou Shinji took a rattling breath and adjusted his shirt. He had done rather well for himself in the ten years since the 5th Holy Grail War when he last faced down his current opponents. A local businessman, he owned a chain of clubs and restaurants that was slowly spreading out of the city into greater Japan. What had driven him to face his old rivals once again in supernatural conflict was a mystery to all present.

Especially since those rivals had gone out of their way to save his life that ten years prior, after he had been defeated, then almost used as a sacrifice by infinitely more villainous characters than himself. Rin had suffered serious burns getting him out of that situation.

Rin. Beautiful Rin.

Ten years had simply crystallized her potential from back then. Long black hair framed pale skin and crystal-blue eyes. A Yamato Nadeshiko in the flesh.

If one only saw her from a distance.

When she was in a good mood.

As for the present situation, she was in some riff on her classic personal style, a red sleeveless vest-top and shorts that showed her very defined arms and legs. On one shoulder was tattooed her family crest; on the other arm her remaining Command Seal showed. In her youth she had gone out of her way to hide how well she kept herself in shape, but as an adult she'd stopped bothering with things like that, saving her energy for more important deceptions. Even her hairstyle had been simplified, a single ponytail in place of her fancier rich-girl pigtail spread. Flat Chinese-style shoes rounded out her ensemble- a no nonsense outfit that gave her the ability to use her martial arts to their fullest.

Had the situation been different, Shinji would have had plenty of complements to make. As it was, the woman was trying to kill him with the expression on her face alone, and he would have been close to a heart attack even had he seen such a woman that was in no way a magus. Seeing as she had every reason to despise him at the moment, he let her hatred slide off of him and looked to his former friend.

Emiya Shirou was a monster now.

He had been tall back in high school. He had been strong. Now he was bigger, and stronger. His red-brown hair and amber eyes were about the only things that hadn't changed.

However, that's not why he was a monster.

Shinji had few good memories about the fifth Holy Grail War. Virtually none, to be frank. Of those countless hours of excitement and terror, he had only vaguely recalled his encounters with Tohsaka's erstwhile Servant a decade ago.

That is, until roughly five years back when Shirou had been seen in town wearing that same Servant's get-up while talking with some of old man Fujimura's men. At the time, he was not on awful terms with Rin. At the time, his curiosity completely overrode his fear and shame, and he had visited her with a photograph and questions. After a slight delay, Tohsaka shrugged, and confirmed that she had indeed summoned Emiya Shirou as Archer in the War, and he had been the one that betrayed her and abandoned her to Shinji's crazed mercies towards the end of the conflict.

He thanked her, apologized for the intrusion, and left.

Now he was staring at the living body of a man who had manifested on the Throne of Heroes. He always thought Emiya had some screws loose; he had also realized Emiya was going to be used by anyone and everyone that got to know him. That's why he had befriended the off-kilter boy so long ago in the first place; a way to direct the guy, keep his incessant drive to be helpful pointed in safe directions, like the school. That he got his fair share of free labor in the process was something he could freely admit, now. On some level he didn't want to see Emiya's innocence ruined. There was far too much of that going around in this town back then. He should know. No scheming woman got their claws into him, and no one manipulated him into a fight that had an unambiguous good and evil side.

In a better world, Shinji would have cheerfully let him take away Sakura.

Shirou stood there, hands akimbo and empty. He wasn't quite as tall as the Servant Archer had been, yet. He also wasn't wearing the red parts of said Servant's outfit. Shinji couldn't say if that was significant at all. All he knew is Shirou, like Rin, could easily kill him where he stood.

Shinji glanced at Saber. The Servant, Saber. Shirou's improbably lucky draw for his game piece in the Grail War, now attached to Rin due to a complicated series of events he was not totally clear on. She was something of a local celebrity, the cute little blonde foreign girl that was attached to Rin or Shirou or both of them when they were out and about in town.

She hadn't aged a day or changed in any observable fashion to Shinji's eyes.

One word resounded in his head when looking at her. Pure.

Pure, pure, pure.

He had zero doubt that she had been summoned by Emiya Shirou. Not one iota. Her identity, her abilities, her personality, he knew nothing.

She stood there, invisible sword in hand, dressed in archaic knight's armor. Expression neutral. A perfect sentinel.

Shinji idly wondered how much of that purity was just a mask, by now. He knew more about prana costs and transfers than many men alive, and he understood precisely how much energy it would take to support a Servant for all these years without the Grail System supplementing the effort during an active War session. He also knew precisely what activities and rituals were most effective in those efforts, in damnable detail.

However, that wasn't the issue, here.

The issue here was that his sister ALSO knew about those activities and rituals. In far greater detail than Shinji.

That his sister once had completely legitimate (if not completely transparent) designs on Shirou's heart (and body) was not lost on anyone present.

That in the chaos of the War ten years ago those designs had been shattered was also known.

That Matou Sakura was born Tohsaka Sakura, and had been stripped of her home, her name, her family, her lineage, and finally her love in favor of her blood sister, well . . .

There was a reason Saber and Shirou were locking their gazes on her.

Rin was glaring at Shinji because she couldn't bear to look Sakura in the eyes. This was quite possibly their first encounter as fellow magi since the War. Shinji knew self loathing. He personified it. He could almost smell it, these days.

Sakura stood calmly, her long deep-violet hair flowing down to her knees behind her. A rather uncharacteristic one-piece dress wrapped around her; not exactly an evening gown but not at all practical for battle, either. It was rather expensive, and Shinji didn't even try to figure out what cruel game Zouken had been playing with his 'granddaughter' when he gave it to her that morning.

She stared directly at Shirou, hands folded together in front of her. He might not have even spoken to her in the better part of these ten years. Shinji wouldn't know.

After Rin had saved him, he had been hospitalized. Once he got out, he had cleared up what he needed to get get his diploma and went out into the city. He gained financial independence rapidly, and used every ounce of his charm and personality to build his businesses. He gave little thought to his wicked grandfather, and even less to his pitiful victim of a sister.

For ten solid years of his life, there was literally nothing he could do for her.

He didn't go to Rin or Shirou about her plight or her 'training,' partly because he feared their judgement on his involvement in the latter. Mostly though (at least he wanted to believe it so), he was convinced that Tohsaka, Emiya, and Saber could not defeat Zouken and save Sakura.

Defeat Zouken, maybe. But not cleanly, not without sacrifice. Sakura's will had worn down more and more over the years, once it was clear to her that her sister had 'won.' Shinji had only seen from a safe distance, but her existence seemed to consist of taking care of Zouken's needs in the city, and her training. No job, no further education, and no dreams or aspirations to speak of.

She had sought him out once during those ten years, for a request he could not refuse. At that time he learned precisely how damned she was.

Shinji looked at a puddle on the side of the road, and tired blue eyes looked back at him.

What was he doing here?

Why had he reached out to his grandfather after almost ten years, and volunteered to help?

Why had his grandfather simply laughed and said he was welcome to participate, without the slightest concern?

Matou Shinji had all of these answers.

They were all the same.

He was useless. He was worthless. He was utterly and completely without redeeming quality, threat level, or practical value. He was scum, through-and-through.

That's why no one cared if he showed up, and why his grandfather didn't care if he lived or died.

That's why his sister tolerated his presence by her side; he was but one more senseless bit of suffering in her past filled with such things.

That's why Saber and Shirou weren't even factoring him into the battle, and Tohsaka was looking at him without really _looking_ at him.

Because he might as well have been invisible or even absent.

Because not a single _god-damned_ one of them was going to see what was coming in time to stop it.

Because he had finally, finally found an answer that paid all of his outstanding debts and gave him a way to cheerfully die.

Emiya Shirou was frozen with indecision.

El-Melloi and Sakura's grandfather left the area rapidly, and he was left in a terrible situation.

Sakura was a magus.

Sakura was apparently here, standing before them, of her own free will, in the capacity of a member of the Matou House.

Shinji was an afterthought, though an unusually quiet one.

He was aware of Sakura's potential as a magus, from Rin's warning earlier. He hadn't actually thought she would be present; he had chosen not to wear his Shroud-overcoat because he felt no justice in killing his friend's grandfather. The old man had a wish and the desire to see it granted, and to his knowledge hadn't courted disaster in the course of his ambition.

That he was now facing his former best friend and his former de facto family member did not settle his moral compass at all.

Still, Zouken was possibly out of play. This situation did not have to degenerate.

Everyone could still be saved.

Diplomacy.

"Shinji, Sakura."

He spoke without breaking his gaze from Sakura's haunted violet eyes. Shinji was not a magus. The worst thing he could do was pull out a gun. The likely thing he could do was pull out a knife. No one present would have a problem neutralizing any threat he presented.

Sakura was now an utterly unknown quantity, and the unfathomable malice by which some of Zouken's former allies' families had spoken of him had place a new and terrible concern in Shirou's heart shortly before he had returned to Japan with Rin and her (their, unofficially) master in thaumaturgy.

Saber was most useful as a human shield here, and she was perfectly content with this. Her immunity to modern magecraft was a perfect trump card. Rin was confident she could counter or at least comprehend anything her sister pulled off, and probably come up with a way to non-lethally neutralize her.

Shirou was there to kill her if that was what would save the most people.

He had come ready to fight Zouken, but during the plane trip Lord El-Melloi had cast doubt on his likelyhood of doing so. He took the possibility of Sakura's involvement the most in stride and was the least surprised to see her on their initial confrontation with the family.

Rin was melting down mentally and emotionally, despite earlier prideful assertions that she would do no such thing.

Shirou had anticipated this result, and didn't hold it against her.

"We can end this peacefully. Stay here with me, and Rin will deal with the Greater Grail."

And by that he meant Saber would simply wreck it with Excalibur. He understood the precise wording of the contract with Zouken and knew that he and Rin were still free to act in fashions Lord El-Melloi was not.

Shinji offered no taunt, no snark, and no disparaging comments. Apparently he'd grown a bit since the last time that they'd faced off.

"S-senpai, please tell me why."

Sakura's words caused Rin to make a slight choking sound.

"Why what, Sakura?" Shirou replied.

"Why you chose Nee-san over me."

Chose. Nee-san. Rin? Sister?

He glanced at Saber. The swordswoman's head shook the slightest bit. _No idea, there_.

He looked to Rin, who was looking at the ground.

"Rin-"

"She's my sister by blood, adopted by the Matou when my father decided to keep me for the Tohsaka crest," Rin said.

_What?_

Sakura trembled and spoke again.

"Nee-san got everything. I got nothing. Worse than nothing. Then I got you. Then she t-took you away."

Rin had stood up halfway through that and glared at Sakura. She spoke next.

"Less than nothing? That's Shinji. You're the heir of an ancient and powerful magus house! What, did you cry from the training? Did you decide to become a magus only after Shirou chose me so you could kill me and take him back?"

Shirou couldn't comment, but he wasn't exactly thrilled with Tohsaka's tone. _Your timing for family drama revelations is crap, Tohsaka. Trying to make Sakura cry for distraction value? A valid tactic, if a cruel one. Shinji was still . . . wait, he was glaring at Tohsaka. No smirking, either. Saber is still-_

_Uh oh._

Saber's face was now beaded with sweat. Shirou was perfectly certain no magecraft had been invoked yet, but Saber's instincts were never wrong. That she was not dodging or attacking meant that something else was going badly.

"SENPAI!"

Shirou flinched and looked back to Sakura.

"B-be mine. That's all I want. Take the grail, take Grandfather, take everything else away, but take me with you. Leave Nee-san." Tears ran down her face.

Impossible.

He was with Rin and Saber, now and forever.

He began to shake his head as he responded-

"I'm sorry, Saku-"

"I'll even make it easier for you to choose!"

Sakura threw an arm forward. A pool of shadow opened up underneath her feet, and tendrils shot along the ground towards Rin and Saber. Both women dodged and jumped backwards, leaving Shirou clearly within range of Sakura's magecraft.

Sakura reeled in place, more writhing arms of shadow whipping out from the pool at her feet along the ground, then stopping abruptly and shuddering as they were pulled back in.

"Grandfather isn't helping me hold them back anymore since he signed the contract and they are getting hungry . . ." Sakura said as her voice took on an odd, manic quality.

Shirou's reinforced eyes traced the vectors of the various tentacles beyond their stopping points, and on two of the six paths he easily spotted innocent civilians aimlessly going about their business outside of the privacy-granting Bounded Field the five of them currently stood in.

It was safe to assume the rest of the shadow limbs had been reaching for uninvolved humans as well. None of them seemed to target Shinji.

Shirou's mind whirled with options. Rin would not be able to harm Sakura. Saber was not fit to interfere with this type of magecraft indirectly. That left it up to him.

Did he have a sword for this situation, or would he have to kill Sakura?

A glowing line of red creeped its way up from the neckline of Sakura's dress to her left cheek. Her skin tone and hair color began to shift and she stumbled left, then right, as if in great pain.

Before Shirou could react Shinji stepped between his opponents and his sister, pulled out a knife, grabbed her by the shoulder and plunged it deep into her right kidney from behind. She fell to her knees and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. He pressed her down to the street without hesitation. The shadow tendrils all began swirling towards him but couldn't get within a foot of him. He turned to Shirou and Saber.

"FINISH HER!" he shouted.

Shirou was frozen.

Saber stepped forward, but Shinji threw up a hand to stop her.

"Not you! If you touch those shadows you're fucked! I overheard that much!"

Rin had gems in a trembling hand, and was trying to mouth an incantation.

Shinji shook his head.

"Tohsaka's useless! Sakura needs to be ANNIHILATED, Emiya! Not a scrap of flesh left! I don't know what he put in her but it comes back from anything! She couldn't even kill herself, Emiya! _I saw her try!_"

Sakura's body jerked and Shinji threw his entire weight down on her. The tendrils quivered but still failed to find purchase on him.

Shinji waited, but when his end didn't come he realized he'd need his trump card.

"Damn you, Emiya! If she throws me off then these tentacles will go out of control and everyone in this neighborhood, no, in this whole damned city is going to die!"

He had convinced his grandfather to face down his opponents in this spot for precisely that reason. He knew that Emiya would do what it took if the right bait was in front of him.

He knew it. The guy was a machine. From the very start he was a machine. Everything he had found out over the years since Emiya started travelling pointed to it. He killed when it was necessary. He killed when it was merciful. Shinji prepared a perfect scenario. Emiya would end their farcical little family tragedy cleanly, and ride off into the sunset with his personal magic harem.

So he'd do it without wasting time.

Right?

_Right?_

He could feel a pulse of energy like a heartbeat below him. He tried not to think about it. A second one. A third one.

By the time he realized the pool of darkness was growing underneath him despite his warding amulet it was too late. With one last burst he was thrown off, and while he was in mid-air he saw Emiya, a bow in his hands, with a ridiculous-looking arrow nocked and aimed at Sakura.

He saw Emiya, unable to take the shot, with tears in his eyes.

The only spiteful solace Shinji had before the blackness swallowed him whole was seeing that Emiya's hesitating idiotic ass was falling in too.

Shirou couldn't see, but he could hear.

Screams. Flesh being ripped.

"SABER! DO IT!"

"But, Rin-"

"BETTER FROM YOU THAN FROM THAT!"

"EX-"

_Oh, no._

"-CALIBUR!"

A horrific crash, then silence . . . then the screaming resumed.

When the thick blackness suspending him went limp and he entered free-fall, he was too stricken with grief to even notice.

[*****]

Senbrek's masters made sure he would be able to present his offer in any tongue spoken in Creation. Unfortunately for him, Shirou knew none of those countless languages.

It just so happened that they were able to employ the services of one that could hear the whispers of beings that were not limited by such paltry things as worlds or language or life . . .

_-Coelica, the Frozen-Light Chronicle, seventh soul-progeny of the Unlimited Bladeworks_

With a bubbling, boiling sound, a human body was suddenly floating in the Well of Udr. A now-materialized and fleshy Senbrek reached inside, grabbed an arm, and pulled it free. It was male, cold, scrawny (to him, all humans were scrawny), and barely breathing. Bruises, swelling and frost all graced his exposed skin.

He set the limp man down gently on the stone floor. Muttering to himself he pushed back some of the fur on his arm to reveal a gleaming brass bracelet. Removing it, he fiddled with the basalt knobs on it until it grew to twice its size and began to glow. Setting onto the floor, he waited for it to manifest a swirling green vortex of energy going down beyond the floor.

Reaching one over-sized arm in, he pulled out some bottles between his fingers. The smooth voice of his memories guided him as he opened one up.

_"Now, it is likely that the candidate just got out of danger. It is acceptable if he is in pain, but he must not be dying or otherwise panicking. Likewise he needs to be awake and able to take or leave the deal. The green bottle will wake him up if he smells it. The blue bottle will staunch his wounds if he drinks it."_

_The voice pauses here, choosing its next words carefully._

_"In the event that you encounter the candidate in extremely unfavorable conditions, you will need to relocate before the pact is sealed. You will know if this is the case. If this happens, the red bottle will restore the candidate to peak physical condition. Just pour it onto his flesh. Hopefully he will accompany you to a safer place. Otherwise you might have to be persuasive; a risky prospect when your kind of persuasion is likely to sour him on the deal."_

Senbrek grunted and poured the red liquid in turn on the man's face and hands. It soaked into his flesh and went to work. He tossed the bottle down into the vortex, twisted the knob, and replaced the bracelet on his arm. As he finished, the telltale clatter of bones betrayed the impending entrance of some skeletal guards. He didn't seem to react, his balance shifting slightly and leading foot turning inward ever so slightly. Those with essence sight might have noted his sudden change in the pattern of his breath.

When the skeleton stepped into view, Senbrek launched himself sideways with a snarl, leading with one fist. Our hypothetical witness would have nodded serenely at a textbook execution of _Stubborn Monkey Hesitation_. A faint, invisible shockwave washed over the room and attached hallway, supernaturally compelling all it touched to choose between combatant and bystander. As the first skeleton cracked against the far wall from Senbrek's fist, Emiya Shirou opened his eyes.

As dizziness assaulted him, he felt the urge to fight or stand aside. Without any context, without any memory of the last hours, he wrenched himself upright and got to his feet, ready for battle.

Then he blinked and wondered where the hell he was.

The recollection of his recent failure returned to him, and before he would face it, before he would come to terms with it, he would take its lesson to heart.

He would not hesitate again.

He then hesitated as he watched a giant gorilla battle some skeletons.

_Huh?_

Dry bones cracked and rusted blades failed to strike true as Senbrek whirled between skeletal foes, ripping femurs free of undead legs and smashing their owners down with them. You did not live long enough for your fur to turn white in Malfeas unless you had an edge or three. Harnessing the physique and rage of a blood ape through a terrestrial martial art was just one such example.

One foe slipped past him and he whirled, flinging his current victim to intercept it. As they clattered to the floor he noticed the human had stood up, looking alarmed.

"Get back if you don't want to get hurt, I'll deal with you in a minute!" Senbrek growled, turning back to the apparently endless wave of undead while waving a hand dismissively. _It's annoying enough playing guard dog to the occasional pampered sorcerer. But to a helpless mortal human? I have to be careful._ The human responded with some kind of gibberish, momentarily confusing the blood ape. _Boss said I'd be able to talk to him and understand him. Crap._

However, that was an issue for later. Presently there was fighting to be done. Senbrek crushed a skull in one gigantic fist and was about to move on when the sound of metal spinning through air made him spin instantly.

Two skulls hit the ground to either side of him as his previously defeated foes were decapitated by thrown swords. The human opened his hands and two more swords appeared in them. He nodded.

_Not so helpless after all, then._

Senbrek grinned.

Shirou watched the gigantic ape throw one skeleton into the one coming for him and made his decision. When the ape noticed him, said something in a guttural tone and waved him off, his decision was affirmed.

_The ape's on my side, then._

For all that he had a side, barring 'the ones being attacked by undead.'

Undead were a clear delineator of evil, in most cases. Giant bony apes were more ambiguous.

In seconds he had muttered his aria and felt the familiar burning of heat radiating from nerves that should do no such thing. Ignoring the pain, he flooded those open circuits with prana. Directing it to his eyes, he invoked Structural Grasp, the most basic of his thaumaturgical arts. Information beyond mere sight poured into his mind, providing context and insight unto what he beheld. It was useful for repair work, cooking, crafting . . . and combat.

The bones on the ground were all dry and old. What strength they had was purely given by the necromancy that animated them. The walls seemed _wrong_ somehow, like they weren't properly made of masonry. He looked at his simian savior and blinked.

Old. Old, old, old. Gorilla do not have lifespans that allow for that level of follicle degeneration. And it was degeneration. This giant ape was white from age, not from some odd nature.

Not to say that its nature wasn't odd. It was seven feet tall, easy, when hunched down on its knuckles. Reared up it would be towering. The rows of bony horns down its back didn't point to natural evolution on earth. Shirou looked deeper. Rippling musculature held the obvious simian differences from human (denser muscle mass, more strong by default) along with obvious strength training and toning.

If a sentient ape wanted to get ripped, who was going to stop him?

Deeper still, Shirou could see some of the organs were superfluous. Surprisingly, digestion didn't seem to directly link to vital metabolism. Overall purpose: brute strength and visual deterrence. Designed from the ground up to inspire fear.

Shirou's vision focused once more, then he saw a blood red field with alien stars look back.

Wrenching his gaze away and closing his eyes, he gasped for breath. _Structural Grasp has NEVER done that before._ That magecraft worked on objects easily, and only on living things in the most rudimentary sense. He could examine his own body and flesh easily enough, but it normally took a lot more focus and concentration to draw information from others. This had been easy, like the ape was merely a faucet at the end of a tube that led back to something far greater. That the ape had registered as a tool that had a purpose as opposed to a living thing disturbed him as well.

Before he could dwell overmuch on this he noticed the two collapsed skeletons near him standing. Thankfully it had only been a couple seconds since he was distracted by the unusual scan.

He held his hands to his sides and a pair of curved short swords manifested in them, heralded only by a brief wireframe trace of their shapes before they became solid. He threw the two swords as the skeletons rushed at the ape's back, decapitating both. The ape spun around right as the swords were airborne, just in time to see the kills. A second pair of swords appeared in his hands as the first set vanished. Shirou nodded.

The ape grinned.

On the next floor the two unlikely allies became a whirling dervish of destruction, each one moving around to flank the other's next opponent, ever moving forward fast enough that they never got surrounded themselves. The human adapted himself to the ape's tactics, darting around the directly imposing hulk to quickly finish any distracted foes; the ape simply leaped over the tiny human when given enough ceiling clearance.

Their rampage continued as they ascended, until they broke into yet another floor and the onslaught of undead stopped.

They had figured out that the building itself was repeatedly resurrecting skeletons whole enough to function; that just caused the pair to adapt skullcrushing and bone-shattering into their finishers. Both were breathing heavily as they glanced around, expecting an ambush or trap.

When none came, the ape took the lead, heading around a few corners and shoving open a huge wooden- no, bone double door. Inside they saw the unexpected.

Six young children looked up at the pair, ceasing whatever play they were at and standing at attention.

Shirou tensed for a moment, then relaxed and smiled.

"Hey there little guys. Sorry for the sudden entrance!"

Senbrek counted them, cursed, then turned his head and spit.

"Six humans in this place, six whelps locked in a crib. So much for interrogation regarding the exit."

The children had looked confused when Shirou spoke, but at the apes words they all turned to him. Of the six, the oldest one stepped forward. A haunted looking boy with greasy black hair, he spoke.

"Can you get us out of here?"

Senbrek turned to leave, shaking his head. Shirou knelt down to speak to the boy.

"Sorry guy, I didn't catch that. Not that I'd expect to magically speak the same language, but hey, it's worth trying, right? And- hey! Big guy! Where are you going?" he turned and shot the last at his ally.

The ape turned and said something unintelligible. The children flinched. The boy who spoke looked from one to the other, then grimaced, shuddered, and spoke again.

"The ape says that six tiny prisoners won't help you escape."

The words were in perfect Tokyo-dialect standard Japanese.

Shirou blinked.

"So you do speak Japanese!"

The boy smiled weakly.

"For a price."

Shirou didn't waste any time.

"My name is Shirou. What are you guys doing in here? I just showed up myself but I'm trying to get out."

As he spoke the ape sighed and stepped back into the room. Their pursuers seemed to indeed be forbidden this hallway, for now.

The boy shook his head.

"She took our names. She took our families. She took more than that and plans to take more still. Get us out of here and I'll translate for you."

Shirou looked back to the ape, who was standing with his arms crossed.

"Ask him what's going on, please. I don't know anything."

The boy rattled off words in that odd language again, and the ape responded.

"He says he came here to retrieve you. Getting in was easy, but getting out is hard."

The ape spoke more, and the boy continued.

"He says he has an offer for you, but this isn't the place."

A moment.

"He also says the kids are dead weight and his only concern is getting you out alive."

Shirou absorbed this, then sighed in relief.

"Then I'll save you all. He'll protect me, I'll protect you. You keep translating, and we will all get out of this together."

The boy's eyes widened.

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. Please hurry, Mo- er, she will return as soon as she can."

Shirou took a careful, magecraft-enhanced look at some of the toys lying around the room, and shuddered. Toys made of bone and teeth and skin. He didn't not want to meet this woman, whoever she was. He nodded and stood up."

"Tell him that I'll listen to his offer, and that I'll worry about the six of you myself."

The boy relayed the message, and the ape replied.

He paled a bit and nodded his head, but didn't translate it.

The ape marched out, the children followed, and Shirou took up the rear.

When Senbrek threw open the heavy soulsteel doors of the citadel, he had to grudgingly admit he was impressed.

His threat to the little mortal didn't need to be carried out, after all.

The candidate had manifested a bow, and of all things had started generating swords and twisting them into arrows to fire. It wasn't the damnedest thing he had ever seen (far from it; he lived in the _Demon City_), but from a mortal? It was close. Any concerns he had about the candidate's well-being were quelled by the sheer destructive power of his new tactics. Why break skeletons that just stand back up when you can collapse ceilings on them?

Mind, that may have gone badly had they been in a dead end, but the mortal seemed extremely certain of his tactics, if his tone of voice before the little one translated for him was any indication. Regardless, the undead legion chasing them had been reduced to barely a trickle before he had finally found the exit.

_Damned deathtrap maze forts._

He took two lurching strides forward on feet and knuckles and surveyed the area. Sword-arrows plunged down into the distant muck, stilling creatures before they could even surface to threaten the group.

Convenient, that.

Just as he prepared to dash ahead, a ball of black un-light dropped to the ground in front of him some 50 yards ahead.

A small girl with a comically giant black sword stood up from her kneeling landing, and smiled. The space around her darkened and served to highlight her otherwise diminutive presence.

The caste mark of the Dawn, the chosen warriors of the Unconquered Sun, bled openly on her brow.

_Welp, we're fucked._

Shirou stepped forward after the newcomer dropped down from the sky, almost coming up alongside the ape before it stepped back once. Then it buckled over and grabbed its head, mouth opening in a soundless scream.

Then it froze, and slowly stood upright.

When Shirou approached, a single giant arm raised to bar him. He shook his head. While the opponent looked like a small child, the malice of her smile and the horrific feeling he got from her power -_never mind that sword that sword THAT SWORD- _convinced him instantly that she was too dangerous and had to die.

_Never again._

"I'm not leaving you to fight alone."

The arm lowered and the ape turned to look down at him.

_**FLEE, MORTAL.**_

Many things then happened at once.

As a rule, Emiya Shirou was no coward. He did not flee from danger. He did not act rashly to save himself. He did not hide from those who would seek to do him harm.

The absolute command in those words (that he was not sure how he understood) did not care about any of that.

Before he could think, before he could decide, he had the two smallest of the children in each arm and and he was running for the fortress. He dashed to one side of it, to dive behind a corner. Apparently he had screamed out orders because the other four children were racing for their lives as well.

As he rounded the corner he stopped and tossed the kids in his arms forward.

_They'll live._

He spun and looked back. Three of the remaining children passed by him, but the oldest one (the haunted, sickly boy) was running out of breath.

The ape's fist was raised, and the tiny knight was running to meet him.

When he was in reach Shirou grabbed him arm, then pulled him around the corner with all of his strength, diving down atop him.

As they reached the ground, the world went green, then white.

Shirou came to an unknown time later. Minutes? Seconds? He couldn't tell. As he tried to get up, he felt the telltale metallic scraping of hundreds of blades retracting into his head, neck, back, and legs.

Usually that effect of his personal magecraft only manifested under his skin to deflect critical blows to his organs. For it to have covered his exposed flesh reflexively . . .

_Oh, no._

He stood up with a grunt, and looked down at the child under him.

The arm that had been sticking out from under Shirou was badly burned.

Looking further ahead, the rest of the children were staggering to their feet. They all showed signs of what may have been sunburn, but what almost certainly far worse. They were far enough away and past the corner that they did not suffer the brunt of it, at least.

Examining himself with his Structural Grasp vision again, he could tell he was riddled with freshly dead cells, and no small number of damaged ones.

He'd deal with side effects later, assuming he didn't see Saber and heal with her assistance before then.

He blinked back some tears at that thought and shook his head.

_Not the time._

He rallied the kids to him, and turned to scout ahead, when the ape limped into view.

Blood dripped from its eyes, its mouth, and its ears. Its right arm was gone; not cut, but simply annihilated. The wound was perfectly cauterized, leaving a huge hairless circle exposing the inside of that shoulder.

It surveyed the humans, then jerked its head back in a clear signal to follow, turned, and walked out of sight again. Shirou followed him out in front of the fortress, the kids close behind. He surveyed the damage silently, with an experienced eye.

What had been a drab and colorless courtyard leading into swamp was now a blackened ruin.

The entire front of the structure was blasted with debris and soot. The battlefield, or what used to be the battlefield-

There was now a gigantic crater. At the bottom of it, still smouldering in green embers, was a small skeleton, and the gigantic black sword in its grip. Small patches of what might have been peat or vegetation were burning with green flames on the far side, floating on the surface. Pinpricks of green light peppered the swamp into the far distance.

Shirou shuddered at the implications of whatever had just happened. Questions could wait. He glanced down at the sickly boy. He was breathing heavily.

_He's not going to make it through this swamp._

"Get up on my back."

He kneeled to allow the boy up, then stood up, burden secure.

The boy occasionally flinched or twitched, and Shirou could feel him turn his head and react to stimuli that weren't there as he walked. By the time they had gotten to the far side of the crater, he was quietly convinced the boy was hallucinating. Not a huge surprise, in the wake of what had might as well have been a nuclear explosion.

The longer they stayed in this blasted area, the worse off they'd all be. Radiation was one of the greatest banes humanity had used on itself back home; that he would encounter its like from an obvious supernatural source just reinforced some of his suspicions about Magecraft as a whole. Rin would slap him if he voiced those particular thoughts, however.

_Rin._

Choking back emotions once again, he wondered how Rin was going to deal with making that call. Saber's directed power would have inevitably killed innocents beyond the target. He ran his mental map of the area through his head again and again. Every possible angle of fire struck residential housing without exception. Rin accepted it when she gave the order. She'd put up a brave front and probably cry herself to sleep for months.

Assuming she lived.

Wait, no, of course she lived. Shirou focused on the mark on one of his arms. His contract to Rin, an imprint of her blood and prana, forming a metaphysical link between them. He had one on his other arm for Saber as well; while not a Command Seal, it re-opened the flow of prana between them and allowed for the healing magic of the sheath to work once more.

They were both alive, else the contracts would be gone. Which meant they knew he was alive too.

Not that they would be able to follow him here, assuming they finished their opponent and any trace of her magecraft.

Shirou maintained his control and kept putting one foot in front of the other, suddenly reminded of the Fuyuki fire. He kept following the gorilla, content to not have to make any decisions at all for a while.

After a while they came to a rise of ground above the murk and stopped to rest. Or at least, refuel. Shirou watched the ape remove his bracelet and set it down on the ground, reaching down into the vortex and pulling out some rather bland looking food bars. One was tossed his way. The ape hesitated, then grabbed a couple more and broke them into pieces, tossing potions to each kid.

Shirou tried not to think overmuch on why a giant white gorilla was doing reaching into a magical pocket-space pulling out processed food bars. Then something else occurred to him.

"Ask him if he has any medicine in there."

The burned boy relayed his question.

The ape glared at him, then muttered a reply.

"He had a salve that could have healed us, but he used it all on you when you first arrived."

Shirou's heart skipped a beat.

These kids were poisoned, burned, and like as not were going to get infections from this area. He had been concentrating on getting them somewhere more conducive to first aid, since he had no sterile wrappings to start with. That there had been an option wasted on _him_ . . .

When they started moving again, he was too irritated to notice the food bar had restored his energy.

Senbrek didn't understand what had gotten under the candidate's skin, and didn't care to. He went into a funk the moment he heard that his life had been saved, and was more or less silent up until the present.

The present was the moment they climbed the hill he had crested when he first entered the shadowland. The first rays of dawn were visible behind them, and the odd stars of the Underworld had been replaced with the hostile yet familiar warmth of daylight. As they got to the top, the air changed and Senbrek tasted fresh air once again.

He promptly sneezed.

The candidate froze on exiting the shadowland, the dreary dullness of the Noss Fens draining out of him as he took in the sight before him. A rolling, grassy plain stretched into the distance, with the outline of a mountain barely visible behind low slung clouds to the far west. He squinted, and Senbrek watched his pupils seem to dilate and contract, as if he was consciously controlling his eyes and could not understand what he saw.

"It's just Mount Meru. It's nothing too exciting."

The broken boy didn't translate. Whatever.

Senbrek headed for a dip in the plains where he had seen a small forest and a lake. Fresh water would be good for the candidate's attitude.

Thirty minutes later they were hidden in a small glade by a lake, out of sight of the rising sun.

The candidate immediately set to washing the wounds of the children. Senbrek didn't stop him. He seemed to be dead set on it anyway.

Never mind that all six of the whelps smelled like death, the talking one doubly so. The other five might have had satisfying marrow to snack on, had they been worth killing, but the last one . . . had been smelling more and more sour since they had met.

In fact, each time he translated Senbrek had to suppress the urge to kill him, the smell of rot was so bad. Rotten things only serve to spread more rot, and it's quicker, easier, and cleaner to just dispose of them immediately. He'd held on to his place in Malfeas under that logic for far longer than any mere Blood Ape had a right to live. That he had to ignore it here at his end was a less than pleasant thought. Insult to injury, even.

Finally, the five younger kids were allowed to sleep. The talking one approached at the candidate's side, looking like it was in pain.

Well, of course it was in pain. Its arm was seared. Apparently it had convinced the candidate to do this now, rather than wait until after a nap or some other waste of time.

For the consideration Senbrek would have granted it a quick and painless death- would have if not for the fact that he'd be in no state to even do that once the deal was done. Better to go quick and easy than the rotting slow end the child was well on the way towards.

He'd want that, at least.

The candidate nodded at the child, and spoke; the child sat down, closed its eyes, and began to translate quickly, allowing for smooth conversation.

"So, you said you had an offer."

Senbrek blinked. It had taken some talking to the previous two candidates before they were even willing to speak back to him. The ape glanced around, wondering if his luck was going to run out for a third time this month. _Just as well after all that the third one gets killed right before he says yes too!_

"Yes. On behalf of my masters I am to offer you the power to right your failures and reclaim what is rightfully yours."

Senbrek spoke the words as if they had been rehearsed to perfection in front of a sovereign being made of green fire.

The Candidate smiled a little, and nodded.

"And what do I lose? My free will? My mortality? Eternal service without end, cleansing the world of my new patron's enemies?"

Senbrek tilted his head. Information flowed into him from his package, but he wasn't sure what was safe to say. Remembering his 'coaching,' he shrugged and told the truth.

"You keep your free will."

The man's smile vanished.

"No strings?"

_Back on script, now._

"Yes strings. You'll be given orders and you'll be expected to follow them. You'll be held accountable for failures. Screw up, suffer. Otherwise you're able to do as you please."

Senbrek had a whole book full of flowery text he was advised to use to sweeten the deal. He waited for the next concern to counter.

"The natures of your masters?"

"They created this world."

"They, plural. This isn't Earth?"

"Dunno any Earth. This is Creation. As in the creation. Of my masters. I'd wonder why you didn't know this, but you came through the Well."

The conversation was both more and less easy because the candidate had no context for the Yozis.

"The overall nature of my contract?"

"To serve them in returning to them and returning them to what is rightfully theirs."

"They aren't here?"

"They're trapped, crippled, and unable to escape. Their tormentors killed some of them, then locked up the rest."

"They don't sound so powerful for beings that created the world."

That was the closest Senbrek had ever been to someone committing such blatant blasphemy against the Yozis. He shrugged it off.

"They made something better than them, then it made things to defeat them. I am offering you one of those things."

The man frowned.

"That sounds too good to be true."

"It does, doesn't it?"

He was silent for a bit.

"So you saved me after I arrived here."

"Yep."

"And your mission is to offer me the deal? Or make me accept the deal?"

"Little of column A, little of column B."

"Offer it to anyone else?"

"Two guys."

"What happened to them?"

"Killed before they said yes by an arrow and a knife."

"Who did it?"

"Dunno. Came from far away. You're my third one."

"And if I say no?"

"Guess."

"Bad end."

"For both of us."

"Both of us?"

"I fail a third time, I probably won't be given a chance for a fourth."

"They'll kill you for that little?"

"It's not little. The offer is a lot more important than I am. You're a lot more important than I am. He made that clear."

"Who?"

"The Boss. Your boss, if you sign up."

Shirou looked at the scarred burn where the ape's arm used to be.

"Boss use green fire?"

Senbrek's brow rose.

"Smart one, you."

"And he saved me too."

Senbrek didn't comment. Some things weren't worth thinking about too hard. Another lesson it took him too long to learn.

The candidate stared off into the distance for a bit, and Senbrek sneezed again. That brought the man back into the moment.

"Well, if nothing else I owe you my life, and returning the favor is the only reason I need."

The ape shrugged.

"Was just orders."

"Still. I don't know about all the rest, but if I get the power to save people and the freedom to use it, then an odd job every once in a while isn't going to hurt. I take it I'm not the only one?"

"Fifty of you, plus everything the bosses can scrounge up to support you."

"So at the end of the day, they're just asking to be saved too, like anyone else."

Senbrek didn't try to follow that leap of logic.

"Suppose so."

"Well then. You have a deal."

The candidate reached out his hand.

_This is it._

Senbrek looked at it, then turned his head to the side and sneezed. He savored the sensation.

Then he reached forward and grabbed the proffered hand.

"Well then, you have a deal."

He could save the one in front of him. He needed no other reason.

The ape sneezed, and waited a moment. Then it reached forward.

Shirou felt the massive grip close around his own, and the ape spoke one last time. The boy relayed it.

"I appreciated the sentiment, at least."

Then the ape turned inside out and wrapped around his body, plunging him into darkness.

The boy fell backwards onto the grass, breathing heavily. His nose began to bleed, and he shuddered.

Then he began to laugh.

Not the innocent laughter of a freshly freed child, but the desperate laughter of someone whose mind was on the verge of collapsing.

Then the laughter stopped. He stood up awkwardly, ignoring the new pulsating cocoon, and limped down to the shore of the now-bubbling lake. He picked up a rock and smiled.

_it_g_'s_i**P**_ti_v_me_**A**e_t_u_o_**Y**_p_s_ay_**U**_b_w_ac_h_k_**P**_w_a_h_t_at_**!**w_y_a_o_s_u_prom_o_is_we_ed

"Yes, Father."

Emiya Shirou was dreaming.

Of creations made,

of creations lost,

of treachery and loyalty,

of power and weakness,

of what was,

of what could be,

and of swords.

[*****]

A human has a body and a soul. An Exaltation is a fragment of a powerful god, polished and packaged so as to attach to a living human soul and invest it with might.

An Infernal Exaltation is one of the ultimately powerful fragments of the Unconquered Sun, twisted by the Yozi Princes of Hell into a more pleasing form to them. If one compares the Solar Exaltation to a bright, white light bulb with a battery powering it, then the Infernal Exaltations have odd color filters painted over that bulb. The amount of energy granted is the same, but it's not as pure, not as perfect, and not as static as that from an untainted shard from the Sun.

Emiya Shirou has no mere living human soul. Through the trials and hardships of his life, he was exposed to supernatural forces of such might that his mind and spirit were warped from the pressure. One such supernatural force maintains residence inside of him to this day, reinforcing his greater-than-average nature. The end result is that he gained the ability to visualize, manipulate, and draw from his own mindscape. His inner world is real. His magic draws forth his creation from that place into the same reality his fleshy body is standing in.

In times of great need, he may directly manifest that inner world around him, projecting it over the local reality for a short time. While doing such he may freely use any and all resources that were already present there.

The projection of a given reality over another in a localized area is a sorcerous feat attainable by the Sapphire circle.

To pin such a projection down on a more permanent basis is the domain of the Adamant Circle.

But to actually have a stable and personal world-soul-body in the first place, one that can be interacted with physically at all?

That is theoretically the domain of the titanic Primordials who create worlds, and no one else.

_-Coelica, the Frozen-Light Chronicle, seventh soul-progeny of the Unlimited Bladeworks_

Unlimited Blade Works.

A spell. An idea. A place. A philosophy.

For Shirou, it was the crystallization of his mindset and goals and magic.

All that he has is here. All that he will ever have is here. All that is here is used to enforce his goals and ideals. So long as he walks down the path of an ally of justice, this place will faithfully answer his call.

An empty wasteland peppered with swords stabbed into the ground like grave markers. The only feature of note, in this dreamlike perspective, is a single low hill. The casual observer would not realize that underneath this barren ground is a king's ransom of metals, common and rare. They would only faintly smell the smoke of the unseen forge, never actually witnessing the creation of blades or their delivery to their spots across the endless field.

For now, the clear sky was like that of a new dawn or a sunset; murky purples and oranges promising a beginning or ending to come.

In another world, in another time, he might have grown jaded, and that sky would have darkened. He would have made a different deal, and great iron gears would have sat in the sky, slowly turning at the behest of a different master.

But in this place, in this time, the new fixture in this soul world appeared in a burst of viridian light.

Hanging in the sky was a green sun, casting its new baleful light over the wasteland, washing out the hidden sunset and promising power to all it shined on.

Shortly thereafter, it began to rain.

This was the beginning of the first day.

In a glade somewhere close to the Noss Fens, a white-haired chrysalis respired Essence and began its work. The nearest grass began to brown, and waves of heat could be seen shimmering above it. Nearby a grinning boy began his dark work, lost to the forces he had invoked to bring what little chance was given to escape his former prison into reality.

He had saved his friends from a fate worse than death, and given himself over in return. Vines, rocks, and other useful objects were scavenged and assembled. He had to be quick and quiet so as to not wake the sleepers. He had to finish in five days so as to fulfill his end of the bargain.

Once he was ready, he sat down for a while by the edge of the lake to watch it boil.

Two days later a shadowy figure emerged from the trees loosely holding a bow an arrow. Putting away its weapons, it gestured in exasperation and the air around it darkened for a moment.

An hour later three more people arrived.

"The jig is up, then?" asked the first of the new arrivals.

"Senny got smart. I think he caught on and hid here," said the shadowed figure.

"Well, we couldn't keep it up forever. Shinypants would have caught on eventually and then we'd all have epic sunburns."

"Do we do anything with that?" gestured another.

The four of them turned to watch the chrysalis for a while, and the dry lake-bed beyond it

What had started as a large, white furred orb that could easily contain a crouching adult man, had gotten bigger.

Not because the disturbing thing had simply increased in size, but because it was growing spikes. Or swords, as it were.

A few times a second a blade would poke out from the fur a few inches, remaining there as more emerged. The cocoon looked like a sea urchin now, and at the rate swords were coming out, there would be little if any exposed flesh left by the time it finished.

"Nah, we're not even supposed to be in this Direction right now. It's one thing to cockblock Senny, but once it's in the oven? No way."

"On that note, we should probably go about securing our alibi."

Murmurs of assent concurred. One of the figures stepped over and looked past the orb.

"That is the creepiest damned thing I've ever seen."

The other three turned to look at the one who spoke, then at the subject of his scrutiny.

"Seriously? All the shit we've dealt with, and _this_ freaks you out?"

"Well if it was in an actual language, less so. I'm pretty sure that's just gibberish."

"Fucking shadowlands, man. I swear if I even see a PICTURE of a lion for the next month I'd gonna flip out."

Grumbling in this fashion, the four of them walked away, content to leave their developing peer in peace.

Emiya Shirou was born with twenty-seven magic circuits. Magic circuits are a mutation that allows for a human soul to harness and manipulate _prana_, a form of energy not unlike Essence but unique to his home of Gaia. They are a special connection of the soul and nervous system, allowing those who are trained in their use to fuel thaumaturgical rituals by channeling energy from a source through their own body, for the small price of suffering that energy they channel as pain.

On Creation, one can be born with a mutation to channel Essence as well. Alternatively one can awaken that ability undergoing any number of risky procedures or quests. However, by far, the greatest and most powerful way a human can use Essence is to be Exalted. Part of the process of an Exaltation bonding itself onto a human soul involves clearing out spiritual detritus and stripping away redundant or unnecessary parts.

Emiya Shirou was no exception.

Those twenty seven magic circuits, since their activation, had maintained the energy flow to and from Unlimited Blade Works. They were the power supply for the 'hardware' that instance of magic was hosted on. In the past, they had eagerly soaked in information from an improbably convenient source, and had raced along nearly twenty years in their development as a result. Ten years since then had passed and they were as healthy as ever, if not overwhelmingly powerful.

Among other things, magic circuits can operate automatically. The first example for Shirou was his body's tendency to manifest blades in his flesh in the instants before and after sustaining heavy trauma; both blunting blows and keeping his body held together after the fact. As magic circuits are an extension of nerves, and the brain-stem takes care of many autonomous body functions, the comparison is apt.

At this moment, Shirou's body was dissolving and losing cohesion completely.

One by one those twenty seven circuits flared and burned out. They were seared cleanly from his soul, leaving not even a spiritual scar. The remaining ones desperately drew blades from inside of the soul to replace, rebuild, and remake limbs and bones and organs that were dissolving in the amniotic vitriol inside the cocoon.

Unfortunately metal swords are as dust in the face of the power inside that chrysalis, and they became such almost as soon as they were generated.

Slowly, steadily, flesh was re-knit inside the ever-more round looking chamber. Scars were undone, limbs were rebuilt, and organs were refreshed. The exaltation drew upon data recorded in the soul for much, such as the most impressive possible form this body was capable of assuming.

The final natural circuit overheated, and exploded. The freshly-formed spine took the brunt of the magical force, but its new spiritual attunement directed it outwards and to the sides, causing two rows of blackened blade tips to poke out of the back and shoulders, in an almost perfect replication of Senbrek's pattern of bony horns. What superficial damage was done quickly healed, but the potency of the vitriol was quickly reaching its limits as these new blades did not dissolve away.

On Earth, draped over a desk in the Tohsaka Manor study, Rin Tohsaka slept, surrounded by a few empty teacups and dozens of dusty books. By her side rested Saber quietly, watching over her. Neither of them had gotten much sleep in the whirlwind of research and panicked study that was taking place in the aftermath of the battle, forgotten in their efforts to try to locate Shirou.

On each of them were the marks representing their links to him. On each of them those marks evaporated in a burst of green flame, causing Rin to wake up with a scream and Saber to flinch before moving to calm Rin down.

The sun rose once more, signalling the approaching climax of the process. At the end of the one hundred and twenty fifth hour, the final blade slipped into place outside the cocoon, unnoticeably perfecting its geometry the instant before it opened.

One by one, strips of metal unfolded down from the top of the chrysalis, allowing gallons of quicksilver to spill onto the ground. In the fetal position, Shirou laid unconscious.

**Oy.**

He groaned opened his eyes, then shut them again from the horrible brightness.

**Wake up.**

Shaking his head, he sat up from the unusually warm bed, wondering if Rin had purchased more fancy useless things. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, then started as he realized he was outdoors, an an eerily familiar blackened wasteland. The only life was a few vibrantly yellow flowers whose stems and leaves looked dried almost to death.

He jumped to his feet and almost slipped from the liquid metal that rolled off of him to the ground.

Or rather, the warm brown stone platform he was on.

Memories came flooding back, and he shuddered as a breeze blew by.

Perfect. He was also naked.

_Wait, weren't we in a forest?_

**Yep.**

"Whoa!" He felt more than heard the voice in his head.

**Look like the forest burned down.**

Shirou nodded.

_Ah, not to be rude, but are you the gorilla?_

**That's a new word to me, but yeah, you're thinking of me.**

Taking this in stride, Shirou figured he'd be polite.

_Emiya Shirou. Pleased to make your acquaintance._

**The name's- **the ape stopped.

**Wait. I smell blood.**

Whirling around, Shirou idly took in the giant brass segments that used to comprise what had apparently been his prison and/or bed for the duration of this fire. When he faced the lake, he froze, then fell to his knees.

The lake itself had vanished. Either boiled or drained, all that was left was the empty lake-bed surrounded by burned grass and a smattering of those yellow flowers. That wasn't what had shocked him, though.

Around the edges of the lake-bed were scattered five small bodies in various states of disassembly.

In the lake-bed proper was a sixth, lying down with a smile and an open wrist near the lower edge.

That open wrist bled its last to finish the writing.

The the gigantic message spread across the entire dry lake-bed, painted with six children's worth of blood. Various body parts had been used as brushes, giving a disgustingly surreal authenticity to the Japanese script. Shirou and Senbrek were silent for a while as each of them processed a different type of horror.

YOU CANNOT SAVE THIS WORLD, CHILD OF GAIA.


End file.
